


DeanCas- Notches

by buck_y_bucks



Category: Supernatural, deancas - Fandom, destiel - Fandom
Genre: Anger, Angst, Depression, M/M, Other, Random Sex, Strong Language, not explicent violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-27
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-02-06 11:43:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1856823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buck_y_bucks/pseuds/buck_y_bucks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean still calls, sometimes. And he says he’s proud of Castiel, that he’s big news in the hunter community- that Ezekiel is healing Sam brilliantly. He never says when Castiel can come home and Castiel never asks, because home to him is tired highways and the scent of lye soap on his thrift store leather jacket. The only thing missing is Dean’s familiar warmth and the sound of too loud Metallica.</p>
            </blockquote>





	DeanCas- Notches

**Author's Note:**

> I appreciate all forms of feed back and criticism. I am new to Ao3 and hope for some positive reinforcement. This was me trying my hand at a new writing style and I hope you enjoyed it as I did.

When Castiel is forced to leave the bunker he gathers his wits about himself and goes back to work. He takes refuge in a homeless shelter, makes friends with optimistic human beings who still believe in good when all they’ve ever been served was bad. One of the men is a veteran of the First Gulf War, and he’s missing most of his right leg. Castiel feels grateful for his strong body and the strong men he comes to associate with. He collects his paychecks for months, finally moving into a tiny studio apartment three blocks from work. Nora suggests Castiel buy himself a new wardrobe and he does, walking through Walmart and tossing fabric into his cart. Purchasing things with his own money leaves a peculiar taste of satisfaction in his mouth, stocking his fridge with pomegranates and apples, shelves high with canned food and pasta. 

He hoards toilet paper, but he isn’t sure why. He works out at home, buys a cheap pull-up bar that goes above his kitchen door and a set of resistance bands that loop around his ankles. The first time Castiel wears them, he feels like they’re chains and he screams as he rips them off his legs. When he gets bit by his first mosquito it swells up to the size of a large grape. The man at Rite-Aid suggests Castiel wear bug spray and laughs when the man declines. Castiel is allergic to mosquito bites, but he refuses to kill any insects. The lady-bugs and June-bugs and stick-bugs are all tiny miracles. When he finds a spider in his bathtub he catches it in a Tupperware container and releases it outside. 

Dean calls to reassure himself of Castiel’s safety. The fallen angel tells him he’s busying himself with work and with furnishing his small apartment. Dean laughs and says, ‘good for you, man, I’m proud’. That night Castiel goes to the store and grabs all the loose carts on the way to the entrance, corralling them into the little basket return. He helps an old woman load up her trunk with groceries. She tells him that she wishes other young men were like him.  
Castiel laughs because he’s millennia’s older than this woman, with her gray hair and frail bones. He presses a kiss to her cheek and tells her he wishes there were more lovely people like her. She laughs and gets in her car and pulls away. Some dust billows into Castiel’s face and he buys a burlap sack full of salt. He’s tired of Gas’N’Sip. The little gun shop downtown has an anti-possession symbol scrawled onto the front and Castiel pushes inside, inquiring about any ‘special items’. He leaves with empty shell casings and a bag full of other items.   
He finds a man named Garth, who is lean and lithe; Castiel can drink him under the table, his alcohol tolerance high enough to win him bar games. Garth teaches Castiel to be a great hunter, whittles down all of his angelic knowledge and fills the gaps with human plaster. Castiel learns about things like cavities and moonshine. Garth is infinitely patient and takes Castiel to get the anti-possession tattoo. They travel the U.S. in Garth’s crappy Ford, the rumble of an old engine familiar to Castiel’s ears. He finds ways to love humanity, the scent of wet concrete and the sheen of damp over the world early in the morning. 

Dean still calls, sometimes. And he says he’s proud of Castiel, that he’s big news in the hunter community- that Ezekiel is healing Sam brilliantly. He never says when Castiel can come home and Castiel never asks, because home to him is tired highways and the scent of lye soap on his thrift store leather jacket. The only thing missing is Dean’s familiar warmth and the sound of too loud Metallica. Sam starts calling, gushing about everything he’s heard, ‘They say you’re brilliant, they say you’re amazing’. Castiel had lugged the trench coat across thousands of miles, resting in the bottom of his duffel, tucked underneath black shirts and baggy hoodies. He tosses it off the side of a bridge somewhere in Guthrie, Oklahoma. Garth smiles sadly, wipes at his eyes, asks him why he had to go and do that. Castiel says because the angel in a trench coat was part of Team Free Will, the fallen angel he is now doesn’t believe in that team.   
Garth takes them out for ice-cream that night and Castiel gets another tattoo. He gets ink in every town they blow through, lets the patches of dark remind him of the lives he’s taken away. He has the artist notch thirteen tallies into the hollow beneath his ribs. How many deaths at your hand, Castiel? The next town he gets two more lines. Are you drowning in all the blood on your hands yet, Castiel? He gets the Enochian symbol for freedom tattooed on his back in red ink. In the next city, on the next case, he adds another tally and has the artist draw wings growing from the freedom symbol. He makes the artist leave the feathers patchy and dark. Like his own. 

Garth jokes that Castiel is truly a punk now, when the ink curls down the back of his arms and wraps around his wrists. He doesn’t understand that nothing but his own body is in Castiel’s control. He’ll do with it what he wants. Castiel has sex again in Chicago. The man has wheat colored hair and green eyes, but they don’t look quite enough like candy apples for Cas. He doesn’t have sex again. They find a massive vampire nest in L.A. and Garth calls the brothers. Sam looks healthy, skin peach colored and hair swinging around his shoulders. Dean looks beautiful, face weather hardened and palms calloused when they shake with Castiel’s. Castiel doesn’t get any hugs from Dean, but he’s also not too keen on giving them. His phone shows three calls from Dean in the last three months and that’s just- not enough.   
Dean asks where the tax accountant get-up is. 

Castiel tells him it’s probably at the bottom of some ocean. When he rolls up his sleeves and reveals the dark tattoos winding up almost every inch of pale skin Dean smiles a bit, laughs and punches Castiel’s shoulder, ‘you’re a rock-star now, huh? You’re gonna regret those when you’re old and wrinkly.’ Castiel gathers spit in his mouth and hawks it into the ground beside Dean’s motorcycle boot, turning on the heel of his gray Vans, ‘I guess I’ll look like you, but just-a bit more interesting’. Sam laughs and Dean throws a glance at Garth, who wraps an arm around Castiel’s shoulder. The two lead Sam and Dean to their motel a block away.

Dean can see stabs of blue and green ink on Castiel’s neck, visible above the collar of his leather jacket. It’s wrinkled and creased, fitting easily around Castiel’s shoulders. He’s bulked up, biceps all muscle and stomach completely flat. ‘Are you eating?’ Dean wants to ask, but he doesn’t. They settle their things down in separate hotel rooms. Dean peeks in to Garth’s and Castiel’s and is relieved to see two queens. 

The pub they visit is crowded, but Castiel flattens his collar and saddles up on a bar-stool. Dean rushes to sit beside him, practically stealing the chair from underneath Garth, who shrugs and sits on Dean’s right. Sam sits on Castiel’s left and Dean watches the fallen angels Adam’s apple bob as he takes long pulls from the draft Heineken. 

“Maybe you should slow down, light-weight.” Dean jokes, poking his elbow into Castiel’s ribs. Castiel shifts away from him and Garth orders a round of shots. What happened to you? Dean screams inwardly, shifting his shoulders to touch Cas’. The man tenses beside him, but relaxes as the handsome bar-tender sets two shots in front of each hunter. Castiel easily tips back both shots, flipping them upside down on the table with a thud. The alcohol leaves him feeling fuzzy and warm, leaves him leaning lightly against Dean’s shoulder.  
Garth and Sam chat aimlessly, both eager to catch up. They stay for three hours and Castiel leans heavily on Garth’s shoulder as the smaller man leads them upstairs to their motel room. When all the doors are closed and the lights off, Dean can hear Castiel’s pitiful wailing through the paper-thin walls. All of Castiel’s strong facades are blown away in the breeze from the room’s ceiling fan. Garth tries to shush him, comfort him with an arm around his shoulder and a hand rubbing between his shoulder blades. Castiel cries himself to sleep.

The vampire nest is difficult to take out, but Castiel is scary efficient. He scales a crumbling wall and walks along the ceiling rafters. At one point he hooks his knees and swings back, easily slicing the head of a vampire as he hangs, suspended several yards off the ground. He curls his body up, wrapping fingers around the wood and pulling his legs free. He dangles for a moment before letting go, hitting the ground hard as he rolls to shake the impact from his ankles. He and Garth are machines, dipping their small bodies into shadow-plagued corners and using speed to their advantage. When they clear the place out Castiel and Dean spray the floor down with lighter fluid and Garth tosses a Zippo with a bikini clad woman into the building. It lights on fire, brittle, termite-infested wood going up in flames easily. Castiel doesn’t even look back, just slowly swaggers away from the nest.

Garth takes Castiel to get a tally mark for the human child he couldn’t save. The two depart before dawn the next morning and when Dean tries to ring Castiel the phone line tells him that this number is disconnected. Charlie calls and says she has seen Castiel and for some reason he’s got little notches covering the whole bottom half of his chest.


End file.
